Wolves

FIVE

X stood like a statue in the darkness, searching the belt of jungle in the green hue of his night vision. A camouflaged lizard perched on a rock ahead. He saw it only when it blinked reptilian eyes that apparently could see him just fine in the dark. All three of them were tracking a bug.

A long tongue flicked out, and the lizard’s face split down the middle, like a cracked egg, to swallow the insect. The head sealed shut, and the lizard skittered away.

X continued looking for the real hostiles he was worried about—the vultures. Though he didn’t hear them, he knew they were out there.

Patience first, he reminded himself. Always patience first.

Years of trekking across the ruined wasteland had taught him that. There was a reason people back on the airships had called him “the Immortal,” and it wasn’t because he had some magical immunity to death. He had survived through patience and strength and, more than once, pure blind luck.

X didn’t know how Magnolia, on the other hand, was still alive. She was always rushing missions. Speed and agility were useful, but they weren’t everything—especially when the monsters were faster. It seemed she survived on blind luck all the time.

She tapped her foot as he continued to scan and listen to the jungle. Before the journey he had updated the microphones built into his helmet. Now he could pick up specific sounds in noisy places, such as this place.

He filtered through the racket of bugs, thunder, and rain—and even Magnolia’s tapping foot—to pick up sounds of movement from the ground and sky: a faint rustle in the undergrowth, the soft whoosh of wings above.

The microphones didn’t make his hearing as acute as Miles’, but X certainly had an advantage that he never had back in the cold wastes—although he was having second thoughts about the enhanced audio now, given how much Pepper and Magnolia talked. At least he didn’t have to deal with the AI right now.

Looking up, he checked to see whether any of the vultures had left their nests. He had to take a step back for a view through the canopy. His boots sank into the mud. Arching limbs reached far into the sky. If he could only climb them, he would have a great view of the area, but the sharp thorns on the bark made climbing nearly impossible.

And did he really want to risk falling?

“Want me to scope things out?” Magnolia whispered over the comm channel.

“No. Stay put.”

After another few minutes of waiting and hearing nothing, he decided to move. He flipped off the safety on his rifle. He had a fresh magazine loaded, and a grenade in the launch chamber. Using a hand signal, he motioned for Magnolia and Miles to follow him deeper into the jungle.

Red mushrooms with a purple glow lined the path. The largest suddenly pulsed like a heart and sprayed green fluid into the air—a defense mechanism, he supposed, and probably poisonous. Reaching up to make sure his helmet was secure, he maneuvered around the mushrooms and pointed them out to Magnolia and Miles before moving ahead.

A snake as long as his leg slithered across the dirt. X halted when he saw that the creature had two heads: one where it was supposed to be, and the other where the tail should be.

“Gross,” Magnolia whispered, jumping back. Miles let out a low growl, and X held up a hand to silence him.

The farther they trekked, the more X wondered what else was hiding in this deformed jungle. He kept pushing on, alert but undeterred by external threats. He could deal with whatever lurked out here.

The trail curved up a hill, giving him a look at the mountain above. Storm clouds drifted over the jagged peaks, dumping more rain on the island. The temperature dropped as they climbed higher.

The cold rain hit the canopy, and a stream carved its way down the muddy trail. Slinging his rifle, he grabbed the tree to his right, then planted his boots, found purchase, and climbed around the slick spot.

He turned to help Magnolia, but Miles moved with ease, bounding up the hill to stand beside him. The three continued toward the summit, where the jungle thinned, and the first sign of civilization gradually emerged.

It was hard to see the building at first. Thick undergrowth surrounded the concrete rubble of the structure, and vines clung to the foundation. Half the building had collapsed over the centuries, but the roof over the standing section was still intact. To the right, tucked between two trees, was the satellite dish X had seen from the beach.

The metal dish, angled southward, was draped with vines.

Magnolia took up position beside him, and Miles sat on his haunches, looking, listening, smelling. Behind the dish and building, X spotted movement. Magnolia saw it, too, and pointed at the birds perched on the branches.

They counted thirty of the flying monsters.

High on the branches, under an awning of pale banana leaves, there were twisted vines and thin branches which formed the bowl of what looked like a nest.

“Babies,” Magnolia said.

X zoomed in on the vulture nestlings. Even those were the size of a human child. Bald red skulls bobbed up in the nests, their yellow beaks clanking with hunger. As he watched, a full-grown vulture descended on the nest, something large and squirming gripped in its talons.

These vultures were both hunters and scavengers. Another change brought on by mutations and, perhaps, evolution.

He considered using his grenade launcher to blow the little demons out of the nest, but really didn’t like the idea of going head-to-head with one. Nor did he like the idea of starting a fight that could draw more monsters to their position.

No, the best way to get into the compound was to sneak in and not make any noise. He pulled back the charging handle of his rifle to chamber a round, then tilted his helmet toward the building.

Magnolia shook her head.

“Let me take point, X,” she whispered over the comms. “I’m faster than you, especially right now.”

He checked the birds again to make sure they couldn’t hear the hushed conversation. But the perched creatures remained quiet, the only movement a fist-size blob of white shit that splattered on the ground.

“Remember that time in Hades when you didn’t trust me, and—”

X cut Magnolia off. “And you almost died? Yeah, I remember it perfectly. I don’t want a repeat of that near disaster.”

He really didn’t want Magnolia pouting or complaining. A deep breath helped him dial back the frustration. “Patience first. Always patience first.”

“I know. So does that mean I can check this building out, or not?”

X thought on it another moment, checked the vultures again, and nodded. Magnolia moved out of the tree line, where the rain beat down on her. She sprinted in a low hunch across the field.

Miles took her place, and X put a hand on him to calm him. X wasn’t the only one slowing with age. Miles was ten now, and even with his genetic modifications, he didn’t move the way he used to.

X raised his rifle at the trees, keeping the birds in his sights. Their long beaks were down against their feathery chests, their eyes closed.

The nearly constant flash of lightning overhead was messing with his night vision, and he switched it off with a bump to his chin pad. The entire sky was illuminated by the storm, spreading weak blue light over the terrain.

He checked the baby vultures with his scope, confirmed that they hadn’t seen Magnolia, and then moved his scope back to her.

She was almost across the field. Hopping over a patch of red mushrooms, she made a run for the building. When she reached the foundation, she hugged the wall and crept toward the door.

As X watched, the noise-reducing microphones picked up a mushing sound. Miles must have heard or sensed something, too. He suddenly stood up, back ridged.

X moved his scope back to the trees, scanning the branches for movement. But the vultures were still sleeping, and their babies weren’t moving.

The mushing sound came again, like boots hitting mud.

“What do you see, Miles?” X whispered.

The dog was looking toward Magnolia and growling softly. She grabbed the handle of the closed metal door, then hesitated, turning to her right. As she reached for the curved blade at her back, something slammed into her, knocking her to the ground in front of the building.

X stood, holding in a shout. He trained his rifle on the area where something had tossed Magnolia across the dirt like a rag doll.

“Mags!” he yelled.

The birds in the trees burst into flight, their great wings kicking up a draft fierce enough to rustle the leaves on branches far below them. They screeched in alarm as they crossed the skyline.

But it wasn’t X’s shout that set them off.

The grunt of the thing that had Magnolia pinned to the ground came over the speakers in his helmet, and he flipped on his night-vision goggles to finally see the abomination.

The lizard that could split its head in two wasn’t the only camouflaged creature out here. But this was no lizard—it was a hoglike beast covered in thick brown fur the color of the terrain.

Miles growled at the mutant, apocalyptic version of the pigs on the Hive. Covered in thick fur with a spiky mane, it was four times Miles’ size, and it had Magnolia pinned to the ground. Tusks, upper and lower, protruded from a long jaw, dripping saliva onto her visor.

“X!” she shouted, flailing, writhing to get free.

Hold on, kid…

He was still trying to get a shot, but she was in the way, and the thought of hitting her made him hesitate. He flipped the selector switch to semiautomatic, and a second later, the beast’s jaw moved into view. He squeezed off a shot that shattered an upper tusk. He pulled the trigger again, and an eyeball exploded.

The beast leaped off, squealing in agony, and looked at X with its remaining eye. He kept the creature in his sights, just in case it decided to make a run for him, but instead it turned and bounded into the foliage. The birds screeched overhead, circling and watching from a safe distance.

By the time the beast vanished into the jungle, X was running. Miles chased him through the thick weeds and around the patches of mushrooms.

Magnolia lay in the dirt about twenty feet from the building. She reached up for her helmet, and X grabbed her by the arm and helped her to her feet.

“Can you run?” he asked.

A distant snort came in reply. Then three more, from different locations.

This beast had friends.

“Move!” X shouted.

He pulled one of Magnolia’s arms over his shoulder and moved with her toward the building.

X raised his rifle with his free hand. They slipped and fell in the mud, landing snared together. The first thing he did was grab his rifle, plucking it from the muck. Then he grabbed Magnolia and pulled her to her feet.

“Work with me here, kid,” he grumbled.

“My head. I…”

X hadn’t noticed the crack in her helmet until now. The beast had definitely done some damage. The tusks had scarred the metal, and a puncture wound dripped blood over the Team Raptor symbol.

“Hold on,” X said. “We’re almost to the door.”

Miles barked behind them, but X kept his gaze on the building. When they finally got to the door, he propped Magnolia up against the foundation and rattled the handle. It was locked.

Using his muddy boot, he kicked it once, then twice, breaking it off the hinges. The metal door banged open into a dusty room.

He helped Magnolia inside, then motioned for Miles to follow. But when he looked for the dog, all he saw was the muddy field and knee-high weeds.

A bark sounded from the sky, and his eyes darted toward the storm clouds, where a vulture was flapping away with Miles in its talons.

“No-o-o-o-o!” X shouted at the top of his lungs.

Katrina was already nearing the halfway point of her cardio workout. She finished lap fifty around the launch bay of the Hive. Some routines she wanted to keep, despite the painful memories on the ship. Her workouts were one of them. She had trained here as a Hell Diver for most of her adult life.

Sweat coursed down her skin, and her muscles burned. By the fifty-first lap mark, she was starting to fight to keep the pace.

But not just her body was struggling. Her mind and heart were fighting the battle of regret, and the poison was starting to infiltrate her soul. Everything that had happened over the past few months came rushing over her during her run.

Normally, exercise helped reduce stress and let her concentrate on what mattered. Not this evening. She couldn’t stop thinking about the child she lost to malnutrition. The thoughts prompted a rush of energy that pushed her harder through lap fifty-five. She ran the fifty-six at a record pace, the pain in her muscles yielding to the flood of warmth pumping through her veins.

She tried to block the images of her child from her mind, but no amount of mental discipline could repair her heart. The anguish was torture, but she deserved every bit of it.

The porthole windows flashed by, and the launch tubes blurred as sweat dripped into her eyes. She tried to tell herself she didn’t want to lose her baby—but the truth was, she had decided she couldn’t live in a world where Leon Jordan was in control. The man had been mad, trying to kill her friends and executing anyone who threatened him.

She had wanted to die herself, but instead, she lost her child. And she was still alive.

It wasn’t right. Part of her wished she had died, but she still had a duty to humanity.

Grunting, Katrina ran even harder, her muscles pushed to the edge, her endurance stretching to its limits. Her lungs took in the oxygen greedily, but no matter how much air she sucked in, she couldn’t get enough.

Stars broke across her vision.

Sweat trickled down her pale skin.

At lap seventy, she squinted into the dimly lit space, trying to focus on the banners hanging from the bulkheads above the lockers. The symbols of the Hell Divers were displayed proudly there: Team Raptor, Team Angel, Team Phoenix, Team Wolf.

The banners were a useful distraction from the pain of her other thoughts. For a moment, she felt as though she could keep going.

Just ten more laps, she told herself. Only ten more and you’ve hit ten miles. As she ran, she continued to look at the banners, picturing the ghosts of Hell Divers throughout the room.

In her mind’s eye, she saw Rick Weaver sitting at a card table, looking over his hand with a sly grin. Aaron Everhart closed a locker and held up a hand at her as she passed. X was there, too, winking at her the way he had all those years ago, when a spark of love had united the two of them. Ty Parker, the technician who had once manned the launch tubes, was polishing one of the lids, chomping on an herb stick.

The images were all just figments of her imagination, but seeing the launch tubes reminded her again how many people had died over the years. It wasn’t just the ghosts of the men and women who had perished diving that made her heart pound; it was also what these tubes had been used for long before the Hell Divers ever came into this world.

The ghost of Captain Maria Ash, hair all but gone from the radiation treatment, stood in the center of the launch bay with her hands cupped behind her back, stoical and strong despite the cancer eating her throat.

She looked at Katrina and said, “The future of these airships is in your hands now. You must not concentrate on the past if you are to lead humanity to a new home in the future.”

Ash disappeared, replaced by her successor. That Jordan was on his knees the moment before she had killed him helped ease some of that pain.

Killing him was one thing she didn’t remotely regret.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins, and Katrina ran her fastest lap yet, her shoes slapping the metal hard and echoing through the vaulted room.

On the seventy-ninth lap, she stumbled, tripped, and crashed to the floor with such force, she flipped onto her side and landed on her back. The ghosts were gone now, and she was alone.

Katrina remained there several minutes, taking in deep breaths, her body tingling, legs finally relaxing.

Tears welled in her eyes, and one streaked down her face. She clamped her eyelids shut, trying to block the mental torture as the poison of regret sank deeper into her pounding heart.

“Captain, are you okay?” said a deep voice across the room.

“Yes, one moment,” Katrina replied. She quickly pushed herself up and got to her feet to face a figure across the room. He was standing in the entrance to the launch bay, but the light was too dim to make out his features.

She pulled down on the bottom of her tank top and turned to wipe the last tears from her eyes. Then she turned back to the figure who still hadn’t identified himself, and saw the shadow of what looked like a sword.

Her heart froze, a terrifying image surfacing in her mind. For a fleeting moment, it was as if Jordan had come back from the dead to get his revenge. 
“Captain,” the person entreated. He walked into the light, and she saw Lieutenant Lester Mitchells, his red hair ruffled as usual. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am…” He paused and tilted his head slightly. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, sucked in a breath, and started across the room. “I’m fine—just thought I saw a ghost, is all.”